


.

by doubt



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Self-Harm, i don't fucking know either, me dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6219667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubt/pseuds/doubt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine...forty. or so. maybe he counted one twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	.

**Author's Note:**

> this is what the kids call a vent fic

 

 

josh hated the cleanness of his arms. no marks or anything. just pale flesh. and like, people told him cutting was bad and that if he did it he would get addicted but he didn't listen, josh knew better than everybody, he didn't need to listen.

six neat lines on the side of his wrist.  _slice, slice, slice, slice slice slice._

it hurt a lot.

josh liked pain though.

he continued. one, two, three cuts on the back of his forearm. two on the front. six on the side. the back of his hand got ten.

twenty seven.

two long ones on his other arm - they barely bled and it irritated him so much, he wanted to see  _blood_ so he dug in harder with the blade and it hurt so good, god. josh almost cried.  _almost_.

five more, right on top of the vein in his right wrist. six on the other side of his arm.

_you're going to pass out._

he didn't end up passing out. his bedsheets had obvious bloodstains on them, though. his mom could find them later.

josh set the blade on his bedside table. sat back on his bed. lay down. had thoughts.  _what if i die? what if i bleed out?_

he wasn't even bleeding that bad, even though he really, really wanted to. so he cried instead.  _i'm dead now_. a kid could dream, right?

he sat up a few hours later, not knowing if he'd just been asleep or not. he couldn't remember falling asleep. his arms ached a little.

josh turned on his lamp. the cuts were all bumpy. he ran his fingers over them.  _fuck_ , that hurt more than he'd expected.

counted them. one. two.

thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine...forty. or so. maybe he counted one twice. he didn't remember exactly how many cuts there were. 

counting was a pretty good distraction.

 _don't do it again_.

**Author's Note:**

> is anyone subscribed to me or


End file.
